Jurante rolled his eyes and slapped Marcellus' shoulder, "Idle chatter?! Why sir, we were just discussing the philosophical conundrum of this century's end!" With an exaggerated hand wave, he motioned to all the women in the bar, "Women! Beautiful women! Skinny women, tall women, fat women, red women, blue women, all women! Women! And what yer preference in a woman may be!" He quickly added, "Or you may be one for Long John Silver, y'catch me drift!"

Marcellus just stared at Jurante for a moment, then looked back to his drink.
"I don't care for either, the human race as is far too... imperfect, it must be improved."

"Pft, alright, fine," Jurante rolled his eyes. "What makes your gears turn, eh?"

He took a drink of his mug, still smiling nonchalantly.

Marcellus had taken out his butterfly knife and was spinning it out of habit.
"A challenge, physical, mental, anything of that sort. But only if completing it accomplishes something."

"A challenge?" Jurante rubbed his mustache, "Grow a finer mustache than this. If you do, you will become a true man."

Marcellus shook his head.
"As I said, a challenge that accomplishes something, growing a mustache is pointless, I'm happy with my current appearance."

Tark enters the bar and orders a glass of water

"Pretty quiet this place is"he mutters

(( Just a bump, because people need more places to RP ))